It's Always Been True: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017 Fics
by LadySolitaire83
Summary: A collection of fics written for Sherlolly Appreciation Week, which was held on 14 May - 20 May 2017. Each chapter contains a separate story. Please see notes at the beginning of chapters/stories for ratings and warnings.
1. Day 1

**DAY 1: FIRST MEETING**

 **14 May 2017**

 **Summary: Sherlock meets the tenant of his flat before he has even moved out.**

 **Prompt: First Meeting (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T, for a tiny curse**

 **A/N: This is a soulmates AU imagining of their first meeting, in which a timer on one's wrist stops counting down once they've met their soulmate. I also added my own take on the timer thing. Hope y'all enjoy this one!**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

 **AT MONTAGUE STREET**

Sherlock straightened up from sealing a box labelled 'Lab Equipment' and cursed under his breath when he heard a knock on his front door. He glanced at his watch, letting out a soft annoyed groan at the sight of the timer on his left inner wrist. _I haven't even phoned Mycroft, and his impeccable and dramatic timing won't allow his movers to arrive too early. It can't be my landlord, and my parents are in Oklahoma. A client then._ Sighing, he picked his way around the numerous boxes littering his sitting room. He dramatically swung the door open. "May I help you?"

The petite, auburn-haired woman standing before him paled. "I'm… Uh, I'm…" She hitched her white tote bag with green stripes higher over her shoulder, her hands fidgeting with the straps.

He rolled his eyes and heaved an impatient sigh. "This had better be at least an eight if you're a client. I don't have time for anything less than that."

She knitted her eyebrows together and frowned. "Client? Wh-why would I be your client?"

He studied her. _Stiffness in her neck suggests she'd been sleeping on a couch. Not hers, a friend's. She's short, but I estimate she's only a couple of years younger than me. Green timer on her wrist and the absence of a diamond ring or gold band on her left ring finger, as well as the fact that she's here by herself, suggest she's single or unmarried, possibly both. Calluses on her fingers suggest she constantly wields steel instruments, such as scalpels. So medical professional, either a surgeon or a pathologist. Ah, Lestrade mentioned yesterday that Stamford just hired a new pathologist to replace the incompetent buffoon that always refused to let me work properly. It takes six minutes to drive from this building to Barts, so she must also be a new tenant. There are no other vacancies in this building; therefore, she's moving into my flat. Interesting._

He nodded and his mouth curled into a small smile. He folded his arms across his chest and leant against the door frame. "I haven't even left yet, but Mr Wellesley already has someone waiting to move into my flat?"

Stunned, she stared at him. "H-how the hell did you know that?"

"Where is he anyway?" But his soon-to-be former landlord was nowhere in sight. He smirked at the otherwise empty corridor before turning his gaze back on her. "Isn't he supposed to escort you here? Or is he too scared that I'd punch him again?"

She shuffled her feet and glanced behind her. "Well, he did, uh, ride the lift with me. But then he said he had a phone call he'd forgotten to make earlier, so he went back down. He was too fidgety and his smile looked too forced though, so he was probably lying." She narrowed her eyes at him. "Is that why he's kicking you out? Because you punched him?"

 _Smart woman. Good._ "I only punched him, because he laid a hand on his pregnant wife after she confronted him about his infidelity. He's been cheating on her with several tenants in this building."

Her brown eyes grew wide. "Whoa. That's horrible. _He's_ horrible! Did she catch him cheating on her?"

He tilted his head, and his face scrunched up comically. "Weeeeeeeelllllllll, no. I told her."

"Did _you_ catch him?"

"Nope!" He popped the 'p' and grinned at her. "I deduced it. See, it's a special skill of mine, developed since I was a child. So I'm quite good at it. The fact that he propositioned me only confirmed it."

She nodded a few times and pointed her finger at him. "Ah, _that's_ how you figured out who I am." She flashed him a bright smile. "I'm impressed."

He inwardly smirked at her elevated breathing and the dilation of her pupils. _Not just impressed. She's attracted to me._ "Are you Dr Woods's replacement as well?"

She stared at him again, but she recovered more quickly this time. "Y-yeah. I'm starting on Monday, so I would like to move in soon, hopefully this weekend. I've been crashing at my uni friend's flat and sleeping on her sofa for a week. She actually drove the moving truck, and she and a bunch of our other friends are waiting to help me move in." She worried her bottom lip as she gazed up at him. "Uhhh, are you moving out… sometime in the next hour or so?"

He glanced behind him and considered how much longer it would take him to pack up his belongings. "I'm just finishing up here. Shouldn't be long now. Maybe half an hour, or even less. My hired movers should be here to load up the truck within ten minutes after I notify them." He uncrossed his arms and pushed himself off the door frame. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of the black jeans that he was forced to wear while packing up. "You're welcome to look around the place. If you want, you can even start moving in tonight." He smiled at her, surprising even himself.

He honestly had no idea why he was being polite to her. Ordinarily, he would not even engage her in a conversation, let alone a nearly pleasant one. _She seems more intelligent than most people that works at Barts, although, of course, I'm still considerably cleverer. If I'm being honest with myself, I'd say she's aesthetically pleasing. Her eyes are a lovely shade of brown and seem… kind. Well, kinder than most people I've met. Also she's already physically attracted to me, so she might be less inclined to yell at me when I need to see a body or stay up all night in the path lab. That must be it._

"Um, hello? Are you all right?" she asked, her gentle voice and concerned tone pulling him out of his head.

He blinked a few times before chuckling. "Yeah, of course. I was just…" He paused as he thought of a decent reason for his brief trance. "I just got a brainwave."

She knitted her eyebrows together, but she said nothing.

Clearing his throat, he extended his right hand towards her. "Sherlock Holmes."

Her eyes darted between his face and his proffered hand. Biting her bottom lip, she shook his hand. "Molly Hooper. Pleased to meet you." She grinned at him before releasing his hand.

"Likewise." He stepped back and opened the door fully so she could see better into the front room. "Welcome to your new flat."

Blushing, she mumbled her thanks as she crossed the threshold.

* * *

He had already moved his things into his new flat when he noticed that the timer on his wrist was at zero. It had also turned grey. He ran the list of the people that he had met in the past 24 hours in his mind as he set up his makeshift lab in the kitchen. _The timers on Mycroft's minions' wrists were still active when I interacted with them. Anthea's stopped counting down the moment she met my brother two years ago, so it's not her either._

His phone alerting him of a new text message interrupted his thoughts. He pulled it out of his pocket.

 ** _Why are both Mr Wellesley and Inspector Lestrade warning me about you?_ – xxMolly**

He had nearly forgotten about Molly Hooper and that they had exchanged phone numbers before he left the building on Montague Street.

 ** _Is Lestrade there with a case?_ – SH**

 ** _Yeah. He says it's a nine, whatever that means. Shall I send him to your new address?_ – xxMolly**

 ** _Yes, please. I'm now at 221B Baker Street. Tell him to hurry if it's really a nine._ – SH**

Her reply arrived 10 seconds later.

 ** _Done._ – xxMolly**

He put his mobile back in his pocket and grinned at the prospect of a new case. _Excellent!_ _I haven't had a proper nine in two weeks!_

Finished with setting up his lab equipment, he was moving to get his books out of their boxes when the image of Molly's timer flashed through his mind. _It was also at zero_ , he thought as he stood frozen in the kitchen. He had glanced at it when she was gesturing with her left hand; but he was too engrossed in her description of a recent postmortem that she had performed, so the fact that it had stopped counting down and had turned grey only registered in his mind now. His heart thumped in his chest as the words 'zero' and 'soulmate' echoed in his brain. His hand trembled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket again.

 ** _When did your timer finish counting down?_ – SH**

 ** _I dunno. I didn't even notice it until you mentioned it. It was still green and counting down when I was talking to Mr Wellesley in the lift. Why?_ – xxMolly**

He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. His brother's words about caring being a disadvantage and the word 'Redbeard' crossed his mind. But he shook them off as he typed his reply.

 ** _Because mine was still active half an hour before you knocked on the door. I just noticed that it was at zero after I'd settled in my new flat._ – SH**

A full minute passed before his phone beeped again.

 ** _Are you saying that we're soulmates?_ – xxMolly**

 ** _Yes._ – SH**

 ** _Oh, my God._ – xxMolly**

"Fuck," he muttered, just as 221B's doorbell rang.

* * *

 _I don't usually read or write soulmates AU fics with countdown timers. But I decided to add colours to the mix. So green timers are active, and they turn grey once they've stopped counting down. This way, it's much easier to see which ones have met their soulmates and which ones haven't._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	2. Day 2

**DAY 2: SEASON 1**

 **15 May 2017**

 **Summary: Meena quizzes Molly about Sherlock's little smile in the mortuary.**

 **Prompt: Season 1 (Canon Compliant)**

 **Rating: G**

 **A/N: Since the morgue moment in "The Blind Banker" made me a hardcore Sherlolly shipper, I decided to write something related to it. I also haven't written Meena much, so I thought they'd have a little chat about that morgue moment. Hope y'all enjoy this one!**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

 **MORGUE MOMENT**

Molly had just taken a bite of her tuna sandwich, which she was forced to get after Sherlock interrupted her lunch-slash-dinner break, when Meena sat down at her table. She waved at her best friend as she chewed her food.

Meena stirred her pot of instant chicken-flavoured noodles with her fork. "So what's the deal with you and Sherlock Holmes, eh?"

She almost choked at her question. "Deal? I don't know what you're on about."

"Are you sure about that, Molls?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

"Yes, I'm sure. He doesn't feel the same way and only notices me when he needs something from me." She took another bite. "Did you know that he complimented my hair earlier just so I'd wheel out two bodies for him?"

"Oh, is that why you were in the mortuary with him and DI Dimmock?" She twirled some noodles in her fork before bringing it to her mouth. "Connie and I saw you guys through the observation window."

She nodded. "He thinks I don't know that he only flirts with me to get his way. As if he actually needs me to do anything for him, since he has unlimited access here anyway."

"Thanks to his brother!" interjected Meena.

"Yeah, exactly. But I help him anyway, even when he's so blatantly obvious. I should tell him off when does it, because it's frankly disrespectful to my intelligence. But I don't want some poor sod's murder going unsolved because of my pride."

"If you ask me, I think it'd be an _excellent_ idea if you stood up to him or-or yelled at him when he tries to wheedle his way into the morgue or the lab. Maybe then, he'll _finally_ see what he's missing." She tilted her head towards Molly.

"I should. I really should!" She let out a soft groan and chomped on her sandwich in frustration. "I also _know_ that this hairstyle suits me better," she added as she gestured towards her hair. "I mean, _I_ chose it. I thought I looked cute, so I styled it this way."

"And you do look cute as hell, sweetie. I'm sure the hot neurosurgeon from the coffee shop would tell you the exact same thing." She winked, making Molly laugh.

"Speaking of which, Steve texted me just before you got here and asked me if I'm free on Friday. His flatmate is performing at the pub close to their flat, and he wanted to know if I'd like to come."

Meena leant forward. "Please tell me you're actually going out with that guy? He's so fit, just like the Human Torch from that _Fantastic Four_ movie. And he seems so nice. I think he'd be the kind of guy that'll help you get over Sherlock."

She shrugged. "I would, but I'm on shift that night. But I'll see if Aisling would trade shifts with me."

"Ha! Good luck with that. She only ended up with that shift, cos Siobhan has a wedding to go to in, um, Belfast, I think, on Friday."

"Damn it." She heaved a heavy sigh. "I'll try anyway. I might have to promise to patiently listen to the never-ending saga of her cheating boyfriend. Or I could trade shifts with Connie or Davina. But I'll do my damnedest to make myself available to go out with Steve."

Meena finished her noodles before taking a sip from her can of Sprite. "But what about Sherlock? What if he needs your help for a case or something?"

She drank from her water bottle. "Well, he'll just have to do without me. Plenty of other pathologists on shift that night can help him. Or I can help him out a bit and then go to my date. Regardless, his choices on Friday night or any other day will not––I repeat, _not_ ––affect my dating life." She plopped the last piece of her sandwich into her mouth.

"Attagirl. But I saw him kind of, I don't know, mooning over you like a freaking schoolboy earlier in the mortuary."

"What the hell are you talking about? He just had me show him and DI Dimmock the soles of the murder victims' feet in his case. Then he left with Dimmock without even saying thanks or goodbye to me!"

"Really?" Meena knitted her eyebrows together. "But I saw him staring at you with this… sort of _fond_ smile on his face. He only dropped that smile once you've unzipped the body bag. You probably didn't see it, because your head was down. Honestly, I really thought he was going to ask you out to help him solve crimes or whatever the hell passes as a fun date to him." She leant back against the canteen chair. "He evidently didn't."

"And you couldn't have taken a picture?" She tsk-tsked and shook her head.

Meena threw her hands up in mild exasperation. "Well, it happened so fast! And Dr Shumway was there, and she's a vindictive, no-fun witch."

Molly snorted and rolled her eyes. "Whatever. He doesn't feel the same way. He's made it clear that he's not into me. And when the hell did he ever give me a fond smile? You're probably just having me on." She rose and grabbed the sandwich's plastic container, her water bottle already in her other hand. "Sorry, I have to go back to the path lab now. I'm hoping to catch Aisling before she leaves for the night."

"You can also try asking Sherlock out again, you know?"

"Nope! One rejection is bad enough." She waved her friend goodbye and walked towards the rubbish bin. She shook her head again when she threw the container in it. Then she started walking back towards the lifts to the pathology lab.

She could not help imagining the fond smile on Sherlock's face though. And she wondered if she would ever see him give her that kind of smile.

* * *

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	3. Day 3

**DAY 3: SEASON 2**

 **16 May 2017**

 **Summary: Molly meets an attractive and available man in the pub.**

 **Prompt: Season 2 (Canon Compliant)**

 **Rating: T, for mild sexual references and some cursing**

 **A/N: Three years ago, I was so frustrated about the fact that Molly's heart ended up being broken in the three "A Scandal in Belgravia" scenes she was in. So I started writing a fic in which she goes to a pub with her friends and meets a guy, who's so nice and even listens to her complain about Sherlock. Which Sherlock then interrupts because he wants her to autopsy a body. The fic went to a different direction from my original premise and became a case fic that I didn't have any energy planning. Sadly, I still haven't finished it. This fic is a condensed (and better-written, if I may say so) version of that unfinished fic. Anyhoo, hope y'all like this version!**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

 **ON THE REBOUND (APPETIZER)**

Molly looked around upon entering the new pub that was located down the road from Barts. She could not see Meena, Siobhan, and Aisling, so she headed for the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. She removed her phone from the pocket of her open pink harbour trench coat and texted her best friend.

 _Where are you guys? I thought we were meeting at 6.30?_ – xxMolly

She placed her phone next to her drink and glanced round the place again. She locked gazes with an auburn-haired man sitting a few seats to her right. She was giving him a polite smile when her phone beeped, and she tore her gaze away from him.

 _Sorry! Dr Stamford asked me to run some tests in the lab. Siobhan and Aisling are also running late. I'll text you once we're on our way._ – Meena

 _OK. But if you guys aren't here in an hour, I'm going home!_ – xxMolly

She took a sip and glanced to her right. She gave the auburn-haired man, who had moved to the seat next to hers, a warmer smile. "Hello," she said.

"Hi." He offered his hand. "I'm Jacob." His voice reminded her of Sherlock's deep, rich baritone.

She shook his hand. "I'm Molly. How's it going?"

"Great, especially now that I've met you."

She could not help laughing at his words. "Wow. Does that line ever work for you?" She winced and mentally kicked herself when his brows furrowed and his face fell. "Sorry about that. I've had a bad week."

"Sorry to hear that. And I accept your apology." To her relief, he smiled at her. "It _was_ an awful line. Even I know that. And, clearly, it doesn't work." He chuckled, and his cheeks turned pink.

"No, it doesn't," she replied with a brief chuckle. She stared at him and saw heartache in his eyes. "Although it looks like you've had a terrible day yourself."

He nodded and gave her a sad smile. "Yeah, you could say that. The love of my life broke off our engagement today. She said she doesn't love me anymore." He teared up as he explained, but a deep breath kept his tears at bay.

She winced and, despite their short acquaintance, her heart broke for him. "I'm so sorry to hear that. How long were you together?"

"Ten years. We were engaged for two and a half." He sighed. "I walked all over the city for hours until I spotted this place. I've been here since five o'clock."

"I wish I could say anything to ease your pain, but I know nothing I say can help you right now," she said in a sympathetic tone.

"You're right. Thanks anyway." His mesmerizing green eyes met her brown ones, and he seemed to study her face. "Looks like you know a thing or two about heartbreak."

She nodded and took another sip of her G and T. "Yep. I've been through plenty of break-ups. And I've been in love with this guy for years. But there's no chance for us, because he's in love with another woman."

"Ouch," he responded with a wince. "How long have they been together?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, actually. He never says much about his personal life. But I think I can guess some things about his relationship with her."

Her mind returned to Christmas morning, when Sherlock identified a woman by her body. Her chest tightened at the memory, but she hid her pain by smiling at Jacob.

"Well, it's hard to compete with somebody else. You deserve someone who loves you with all his heart."

She smirked. "It's funny, because that's exactly what my work friends tell me. They'd usually add that I should get over him. That if someone like him could find love, then I'd be able to find the one for me."

"What do you mean by 'someone like him'?"

She heaved a deep sigh. "Well, you could say he's eccentric. But he's incredibly clever, which kind of makes up for his weirdness and rudeness a lot of times. I mean, he can deduce what you do for a living or what you ate for lunch or-or if you're cheating on your partner just by examining your face and your clothing and body language. It's great for his career as a private detective. He's helped Scotland Yard solve numerous crimes as well as his private clients with their little puzzles. Unfortunately, he also won't hesitate to cut you down with his deductions, especially when you've pissed him off."

Then she told him about the Christmas party incident. She giggled when Jacob cheered at the bit where she stood up to Sherlock and told him off for always saying hurtful things to her. She also told him about showing Sherlock the body of a woman with a bashed-up face. She teared up when she recounted how her heart broke once she figured out that Sherlock and the woman had been intimate before the latter's untimely and violent death. She added the tiny incident in the lab, when he was X-raying a woman's phone, especially the moment he said that the owner of the phone loved to play games.

"Wow." Jacob could barely hide the admiration in his voice. "That seems like an interesting relationship."

"It does, doesn't it?" She gave him a wry smile and a shrug of her shoulders.

He took a swig of his beer and stared at her. "So why are you in love with this guy?"

 _Oh, my God_ , she thought in despair. _Kill me now._ She could not believe that she was discussing Sherlock bloody Holmes, the most unavailable man on the planet, with an attractive man, who had just become available. If her friends were here, they would have urged her to take Jacob home already. She took a deep breath before answering. "He's gorgeous, he's brilliant, and I know he's a good man despite how heartless he seems to be. He also likes to wear incredibly tight dress shirts and tight trousers. Plus he's got this deep, sexy voice that always sends a shiver up and down my spine."

Jacob nodded. "I see." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "So where are the men that are falling all over you?"

Her jaw dropped, and her cheeks turned red. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, let's face it, Molly. You are gorgeous, and you seem to be level-headed, kind, loyal, clever, and incredibly patient. Surely, other men are lining up to date you?"

Blushing even more, she grinned at him. "Awwww, that's so sweet of you to say. Thank you." She sighed. "But, sadly, my job turns men off. I'm a pathologist, so I perform postmortems and run tests in the lab to figure out how and why people died. It's not exactly the most glamorous job; I often have to sit in the tub for at least an hour to get rid of the smell. It's tough to find men that aren't weirded out by my morbid career."

"I wouldn't be," he replied with a shrug. "I think it's cool."

"Thanks." She let out a soft groan. "Also the guy I'm in love with kind of drives men away."

He cocked his eyebrow at Molly. "I'm sorry. _Drives_ men away? From you?"

She nodded. "Whenever the men I'm seeing visit me at work and Sherlock––that's his name––happened to be there, he'd rip into them with his cruel deductions. Or he'd make snide comments about my boyfriends, sometimes even right in front of them. He'd _always_ find something wrong with them. For some reason, he'd always prove that they're unworthy of my time. Then, because this total stranger had figured out their faults and embarrassed them in front of me, they'd end our relationship. Either that, or I'd break up with them, because those faults are deal-breakers."

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure he's not interested in you? Normally, if a man drove other men away from a woman, that means he's _jealous_ of them. Of course I don't know this Sherlock guy, but it sounds like he wants you all to himself."

She considered it, but she eventually shook her head in denial. "But that doesn't prove that he's romantically interested in me. As a private detective, he needs constant access to the morgue and to the pathology lab at work. And I'm the only pathologist that's willing to _and_ can work with his moods and other eccentricities. If I'm on a date or otherwise occupied with anything that doesn't revolve around his needs, he'd whinge and tell me how my pursuit of love is incredibly inconvenient for him and his work." She shrugged. "Honestly, he does the same thing with his flatmate and friend, although he's more casual and subtle about it, at least according to his flatmate."

"How do you mean? Does he just act like a knob towards his friend's girlfriends and then wait for the women to break it off?"

"Er, I don't know…" She trailed off when her phone beeped. She scowled when she saw the message.

 _Hey, Molls. Sorry, but we might take forever here. Let's try this again another night, yeah?_ – Meena

She cursed under her breath before excusing herself to reply to her best friend's text.

 _It's all right. We'll just go out when we're all not slammed at work. At least I met a guy, and he's not boring…_ – xxMolly

 _Siobhan says that you should take this guy to the loo or the alley and shag his brains out! LMAO_ – Meena

She rolled her eyes at their sex-obsessed friend's suggestion. But she smirked as she typed out her response.

 _Maybe I will!_ – xxMolly

Slipping her phone back into her pocket, she returned her attention to Jacob and flashed him an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. That's my friend telling me they've been held up at work. It's disappointing, actually, because they invit––"

"Molly."

She froze and blinked a few times. _Fuck._ She mumbled her apologies before reluctantly turning away from the nice, attractive man and towards the bane of her existence (as Aisling called him). Sure enough, Sherlock Holmes looked real and solid, as opposed to a figment of her imagination, as he stood behind her, with John looking like he would rather be somewhere else. "Are you guys stalking me?"

While her greeting made John chuckle, Sherlock only stared at her as if she had just told him that she was becoming a librarian instead of completing her specialist registrar training.

She heaved a heavy sigh and darted her eyes between them. "How can I help you, boys?"

Having recovered, Sherlock cleared his throat and gave her a curt nod. "I need you to autopsy a murder victim." He slid his gaze towards Jacob, who politely smiled, and looked him up and down.

She could have sworn that she saw his jaw tighten and some kind of unnamed emotion cross his face for a split second. She also noticed his eyes taking in her pink coat and emerald green dress with a thin deep purple belt. She cocked an eyebrow at his almost undetectable nod towards her sensible, black low-heeled ankle boots. But she said nothing and waited for either of them to elaborate.

John cleared his throat. "The crime scene isn't far from Barts, so the body should arrive at the hospital soon. Sherlock thinks it might be––"

"The most recent victim of a serial killer," the detective finished for the kind doctor. "Thank God you weren't too far away from Barts so we won't have to waste precious time fetching you from your date." He gave her new friend a derisive glance. "Ready to go, Molly?"

Instead of answering him, she turned to Jacob. "Sorry, I've gotta go. Duty calls."

He nodded a few times and waved her away. "Yeah, of course, of course. You've got to help your friends catch a serial killer. Listen, it was a pleasure to hang out with you for a bit." Giving her a soft smile, he extended his hand towards her.

She took it and grinned brightly at him. "Likewise."

Releasing her hand, he reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a blue business card and a pen. He turned the business card over and scribbled on it before handing it to her. "Call me if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime."

She took it with a bashful smile before shoving the card, as well as her mobile, into her coat pocket. "Will do." She took a few banknotes from her purse and slapped them onto the bar counter. "See you later, Jacob."

Sherlock walked ahead of them when they exited the pub. He did not turn to look at her even when she called out to him.

"Is he all right?" she asked John in a low voice.

"I don't know. He's in a bit of a mood today," he replied almost distractedly. "Sorry if we interrupted what seemed to be a delightful date." He winked at her and smirked.

She laughed. "I just met him actually. I was supposed to meet my friends, but they've been asked to work overtime. Jacob and I just got to talking, and we kind of hit it off."

"Well, good for you, Molly. He seems like someone who'll treat you right. Just text me when you're going on a date with him, and I'll make sure His Royal Highness won't interrupt it." He gave her an arch look, which made her giggle.

"His ex-fiancée is more likely to interrupt your date when she finally realises that she's better off with him than with her current lover," said Sherlock in an almost bored voice.

"That would make it the most interesting date I've had in years, to be honest." She turned to John. "Perhaps I _will_ call him later."

John guffawed, but Sherlock only strode faster towards the hospital. She and the former exchanged an exasperated glance but said nothing. They only quickened their pace to catch up with the man-child.

 _Jacob would be interested to hear that Sherlock did sound just a tiny bit jealous then_ , she thought.

* * *

 _Molly knows how impatient Sherlock can be, so she didn't introduce Jacob to Sherlock and John. Also, while I was writing this, Jacob isn't another 'Jim from IT;' he's really just a hot, available, and interested man without any nefarious designs on either Molly or Sherlock._

 _I also re-read my original premise and realized that I could've used it to do the non-canon/headcanon theme for today. *sighs* Oh, well._

 _So what do y'all think Jacob scribbled at the back of his business card? And do y'all wanna see the rest?_

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	4. Day 4

**DAY 4: FIRST SLEEPOVER/SLEEP TOGETHER**

 **17 May 2017**

 **Summary: Mrs Hudson intrudes on a private moment between Sherlock and Molly.**

 **Prompt: First Sleepover / Sleep Together (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: M, for mild cursing, sexual nudity, and accidental voyeurism (sort of)**

 **A/N: Part of my Secret Relationships are Fun! series. Two things jumped at me while I was rereading the original post on Tumblr, and I had to fix them. Hope y'all like this slightly edited version!**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

 **CAUGHT IN THE ACT**

Listening to a rock/hip-hop extended-play record that her grand-niece loaded into her new iPod Nano, Martha crept up the creaky stairs as she carried the plate of fried egg, toast, and bacon up to Sherlock's flat. She had heard noises from the direction of his bedroom and thought that he must have been looking for his breakfast. She hoped that he had gotten enough rest, since he just came back from a case that took the boys three weeks to solve. And she knew how tetchy he could be when he got inadequate sleep and food after a big case.

She frowned when she entered his sitting room and saw the empty armchair. _He must have fallen asleep again_ , she thought as she laid the plate on his desk. "The poor boy must have gotten in so late," she muttered to herself. "I didn't even hear him when he got home." She pulled folded napkins out of the pocket of her apron and unfurled them, revealing the fork and bread knife inside, before laying them beside the plate. After checking that the tea was still hot, she headed towards the kitchen to make his morning coffee.

She paused beside John's old armchair and knitted her eyebrows upon seeing a dark raincoat, which was draped over the backrest. She glanced at the door and saw Sherlock's Belstaff coat hanging from its usual peg. _So whose is this?_ She lifted the strange coat and raised an eyebrow at the white tote bag with green stripes hidden underneath it. _Doesn't look like Mary's._ Raising her index finger to her lips, she looked round the sitting room and kitchen. _Molly's?_ Lowering her hand, she shrugged her shoulders before resuming her journey towards the kitchen.

She was checking if the mugs in the sink needed washing when she heard a shout coming from the bedroom. _Oh, dear. I hope he's not grumpy._ Pressing 'pause' on her iPod and cutting off the rapper mid-verse, she left the kitchen and walked towards his closed door. She wanted to call out his name, but a voice in her brain told her not to. She twisted the knob as quietly as she could and pushed the door open, just enough so she could see the bed. She peered through the narrow opening, and her jaw dropped and her eyes started out of her head at what she found.

A naked petite woman with long, brown hair lay on top of Sherlock. Her body was still joined with his, and sweat glistened on her fair skin as she panted against his neck. Her messy hair covered most of her face, but she did not seem to notice or mind as she rested her head on his left shoulder. Her thumb grazed his right nipple, making him moan softly, as she slid her hand up from his side to his shoulder.

Also sweaty and panting, Sherlock moved his enormous hand from his lover's backside, which bore the marks of his fingers where they dug into her flesh, to her back, on which he traced random shapes. Then, smiling down at her, he tenderly brushed her hair away from her face, revealing her closed eyes and sated expression.

The woman––who turned out to be Molly Hooper––opened her eyes and grinned back at him. She raised her head, and their lips met in a slow, sensual kiss.

"I love you," he said in a low voice against her mouth. His words were clear, despite the ambient sounds of central London in the morning.

Molly smiled. "I love you," she whispered back.

Mentally chastising herself for intruding on this intimate moment between Sherlock and Molly, Martha closed the door as quietly as she could and tiptoed back to the kitchen to resume making coffee.

She glanced back at the direction of the bedroom and smiled to herself. She was glad that the boy had finally gotten his head out of his arse and decided to get involved with his lovely pathologist, who had loved him for years. She had noticed the shift in their dynamic since he came back from the dead, and she began to hope that he would finally realise how perfect they were together and that she would finally ditch her fiancé. She wondered, however, how long this thing between them had been going on, because Molly had never slept over. _Unless, of course, they've been hiding it from me._ She might be in her late 70s, but her hearing was still fine; even when she took her herbal soothers, she would have heard if Molly came over and stayed the night, especially if she and Sherlock were knocking boots. _Was this the first time they made love? Or was this just the first time here in his flat?_ She thought back to the times Sherlock stayed out when he had no cases and wondered if he had been sleeping over at her house. Which, if she were a betting woman, was probably why Molly broke off her engagement.

She brought the two coffee mugs to the desk in the sitting room. She turned back towards Sherlock's bedroom door when she heard their muffled voices. _They must have realised that I'm here or, worse, that I've caught them in bed._ She hurried towards the stairs and carefully made her way back to her flat.

 _Who had yesterday's date in the 'When Sherlock and Molly Finally Get Their Shit Together' pool? Oh, Mary would know! I'll phone her after I bring up Molly's breakfast_ , she decided.

* * *

When Martha came back upstairs, she found Sherlock sitting at his desk and wearing his camel dressing gown over his naked torso and grey pyjama bottoms. Molly, on the other hand, had his dark green shirt on (and, hopefully, her knickers) as she straddled him and snogged the daylights out of him.

The lovers stopped kissing when she placed Molly's plate across Sherlock's. She glanced at them as she lay utensils beside the second plate and found them staring at her.

Molly blushed and worried her bottom lip but kept her arms round his neck. "G-good morning, Mrs Hudson."

She smiled and winked at them. "Good morning, you two." She then turned to Molly. "I'm not sure what you like for breakfast, so I just made you the same thing that Sherlock loves." She ignored her tenant's eye-roll. "Do let me know if you'd like something else and if you have food allergies, so I'll know what to cook when you spend the night."

"I didn't know you had a penchant for voyeurism," remarked Sherlock as he trailed kisses up Molly's neck.

"I don't," she simply replied. "I just expect a sock on the doorknob or any kind of warning when my tenant is fadoodling with his girlfriend. You wouldn't want a client or your brother to interrupt your lovemaking. Or do you want John to blog about it?" She shrugged her shoulders and winked at the lovebirds.

"Over my dead body!" He scowled at her. "And what the hell is _fadoodling_?!"

"She's right though," Molly told Sherlock with a giggle. She then turned to her. "Sorry about that. We'll make sure the door––"

"Or we can just not keep our noises down," Sherlock suggested.

Molly blushed but ignored him. "We'll, uh, hang socks or scarves on the doors when we're, um, having sex."

"Thank you!" She stood in the middle of the sitting room and grinned at the happy couple. "Congratulations, by the way."

"For what?" asked Sherlock while he tried to stifle a grin.

"For finally getting your shit together."

With that, she walked towards the stairs and headed back to her flat. She chuckled when she heard the lovers laughing together. She grabbed her phone and dialled the Watsons' number. _Mary would be delighted!_

* * *

 _Two things jumped at me every time I reread the story:_

 _1\. How did Mrs Hudson not hear the noises the bed made while Sherlolly were fadoodling?_

 _2\. This line is inaccurate: "Sherlock moved his enormous hand from his lover's backside, which was red in some places where he must have gripped it tightly..."_

 _So I fixed them. I do hope the edits actually improved the story. *_ shrugs _*_

 _I honestly don't know why my brain wanted to write about other people's perspective on Sherlock and Molly's relationship. I hope y'all liked Mrs Hudson's view what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	5. Day 5

**DAY 5: FIRST ARGUMENT**

 **18 May 2017**

 **Summary: Sherlock and Molly talk about the past and the future.**

 **Prompt: First Argument (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T, for some cursing and one awesome euphemism for sex**

 **A/N: Personally, I hate it when couples (or other people, really) scream at each other while arguing. So there's only some sort of playful, passionate discussion here with sliiiiiiight raising of voices. It's also a bit of an AU (in which Mary is alive) that's loosely connected to** _ **Chewing the Fat, Woman to Woman**_ **and to the post-TFP fic that I've yet to edit. There are mentions of past Adlock and Sherlock/Janine (I don't know their ship name, sorry) here, as well as Jarene, so fair warning to those that aren't into those pairings. I also rewrote the whole thing at, like, 3:30 AM. So I hope y'all like it.**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

 **THE WOMAN AND THE HOME**

During a quiet afternoon in 221B, Molly sat on one end of the sofa with the new issue of The Journal of Pathology in her hand and her black-rimmed spectacles perched on her nose. Sherlock reclined on the sofa with his head on her lap. Turning to the next article in her journal, she glanced down at him and wondered if he had moved the clasped hands resting on his chin at all in the last half hour. His eyes were closed, and deep furrows creased his face.

He had been contemplative and preoccupied for the past few days, but he had not told her why. While she knew that he would tell her what was on his mind once he was ready, she still could not help feeling anxious. _I just hope I don't have to be sent to a secret location up north because of whatever it is._ Sighing, she returned her gaze to the journal and resumed reading.

"Molly?"

"Yeah?" she replied without glancing back at him.

"How would you feel if Irene Adler came to visit us with her fiancée?"

She lowered her journal to the sofa's armrest and stared into space for a moment. Then she fixed her gaze on her boyfriend of eight months. She cleared her throat. "I don't know. Are they staying here?"

He gave it a thought before shaking his head. "No, they're staying at the poshest hotel that tabloid sensationalism and blackmail money can buy."

"I see." She combed her fingers through his luxuriant curls and began massaging his scalp, just the way he liked it. "Why are they visiting and for how long?"

He lowered his hands and squeezed her hand on his chest before interlacing their fingers. He laid his free hand on his belly. "They said they'd be in town for a week. They're trying to sell me Janine's cottage in Sussex Downs, because they're moving to New York City."

"Janine? You mean, Mary's chief bridesmaid and your ex-fake girlfriend?" _Well, that's definitely interesting. How did they even meet?_ "Hmm. Are you buying the cottage?" she asked calmly.

"I don't know. I'm still thinking about it."

"Do you _want_ to buy it?"

"I'm not sure yet. It would be lovely to have a place to retire to when I finally get tired of my adventures. But that will likely take decades. So it will be uninhabited for years. What do you think?"

She removed her hand from his hair to push her spectacles up the bridge of her nose, making him whine, for a moment. "I think that would be a good idea. It'd be nice to go there for holidays too. So what's stopping you?"

He sighed. "Well, both of them are, technically, my exes. As I've told you, Irene and I had a thing and shared a passionate night in Karachi. And I fake-dated Janine for a case. Wouldn't that be odd?"

She rolled her eyes. "Since when did you care if you looked odd to other people?"

"I don't! But John says it might be too weird for me to buy property from Janine and too awkward for you to meet two women I used to be sort-of involved with. Is he right?"

She thought about it. "Yes and no, I guess. For one, I'm only officially meeting Irene for the first time. And I've heard so many things about her from you, Mycroft, and John… but mostly from John. He said you were so into her that you resorted to writing sad music when you thought she was dead. He also said that you two had an amazing and strong sexual tension. And that she was sexy and confident and clever as fuck, which is apparently your type. He's always made it sound like she's your dream woman. Or maybe she's _his_ dream woman." _I wonder what Mary thinks of that…_

"You know damn well that I'd do more than write sad music if I ever lost you," he reassured her. "And _you_ are my dream woman. And _you_ make me want to be a better man, not her."

She kissed him for that. "And _that's_ why I'm secure in our relationship. How can I not be? You love me, and I love you. I enjoy our time together. Your family––including Eurus––loves me, and my mum and Betty like you… despite your rocky relationship with my mum in the beginning. You've expressed repeatedly that you'd rather die than let me come to any harm. Also, the sex is fucking phenomenal. And the online attacks from your fans that disapprove of our relationship have finally died down."

"And Janine?"

"It wasn't even a real relationship. I feel bad for her, of course, and I still sometimes wish that you didn't have to hurt her to solve the Magnussen case. Plus she can take care of herself, and you deserve her occasional top-ups for your horrid treatment of her. Hell, this might even be one of those. It might surprise you and everyone else, but she's not a threat to me."

"So it won't be awkward?"

"It probably will be. But that's OK. They _are_ engaged to each other––I'd surely love to hear _their_ love story––and we've been going out for eight months. Honestly, I think we'll all end up poking fun at you." She giggled.

He stuck out his tongue at her, and she mirrored her favourite man-child's actions. He sighed in relief as well as in exasperation. "For someone who calls himself 'Three Continents Watson,' he gives terrible dating advice," he remarked. "Anyway, they're flying in at 6pm tomorrow. And they're coming to dinner at eight. So please don't be jealous or weird or anything."

She giggled. "I'm _not_ jealous! I literally just said that Janine isn't a threat to me––neither is Irene, for God's sake––because I'm secure in our relationship!"

He looked her up and down. "Yes, you are. Even a tiny bit."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are! Don't try to hide it, Molly."

"I won't have to, because I'm not jealous. Would _you_ be jealous if I ever have to buy property from Tom or if he ever comes to visit or if he becomes a client?"

He snorted. "I wasn't even jealous of him when you were _together_. He has _never_ been a threat."

She could not help laughing out loud. "You didn't talk to him at all during your homecoming celebration party. You called on him at John and Mary's wedding reception and humiliated him in front of the other guests. And you started staying the night at my house _and_ wearing only your pants, which made him break off our engagement! Don't tell me he was never a threat to you, because you were totally jealous. You were trying to be subtle about it, but it's so obvious that even _Mycroft_ knows."

He groaned in defeat. "Oh, all right, I was," he admitted with a pout. "But I was civil to him when I bumped into him at the jewellers."

She stared at him. "Why were you at the jewellers?" Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she waited for his answer.

"He was buying a ring for his girlfriend. And I was buying you a pair of earrings for when I ask you to move in with me. I was even _polite_ to him, for God's sake." He paused and shut his eyes. "Fuck. I just blurted it out, didn't I?"

She nodded, making him curse under his breath. "Sooooo… you want me to move in with you?"

"Yeah. I've been wanting to ask you since we got involved, but I didn't want to scare you away."

"What? Scare me away?" She gave him an incredulous look. "Sherlock, I've known you for nearly ten years, and I'm still here. You've ignored me and you've been awful to me. You've scared the living hell out of me every time you relapsed. And yet I'm still here!"

He smiled up at her. "So you'll move in with me?"

She considered it but shook her head eventually. "I love my house. I can't leave my sweet kitchen and my spacious bedrooms and my lovely garden. Why can't _you_ move in with _me_?"

He glared at her as if she just insulted his honour. "Molly, Baker Street is my home."

"St John's Wood is my home too."

"I also work here. I receive clients and solve their little puzzles without even leaving the flat!"

"I have four other bedrooms in my house. Choose one for your consulting detective work and another for your lab. Hell, you can have the drawing room for meeting clients," she offered. "We can even share the study if you want."

"No, keep the study," he replied with a wave of his free hand. "You need it for writing your papers in peace." He scrunched up his face. "But what about Mrs Hudson? She's going to be so lonely without me."

"She can move in with us. Or she can just drop by when she's feeling lonely. It's less than 10 minutes from here by car or cab. Have you forgotten that she survived two years without you?"

"She can't move in with us at your house. What if we have children? Where are we going to put them?"

"In the remaining bedroom. It'll be fine for two children." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Why? How many children do you think we'll have?"

"I don't know. Two or three? Why don't you sell your house to Janine and Irene? They're looking for a new place in London, and she can't come back to Belgravia."

"Isn't she still officially dead? And I thought they're moving to New York?"

"Yeah, to answer both your questions, but Irene has missed London. And she has assumed a new identity, so the property would be under her new name and Janine's name." He brought the hand that he was holding to his mouth and kissed each of her knuckles. "Why don't you want to give up your house?" he asked in a gentler and more patient tone. "You can fetch a pretty penny for it if you sell it. Or you can even let it out to a tenant."

"Because it's _mine_ ," she replied with a sigh. "Because I bought it at a _huge_ discount. Because I've made it myhome. You've told me once yourself that you can sense me in every room. And it's something that's _just mine_. I'm sorry, but I'm loath to part with it."

He let out a frustrated groan. "All right," he conceded. "I suppose that's fine. And I suppose I can keep this flat as my office and lab."

She stared at him. She had expected him to be more upset than he actually was. "What? You're just admitting defeat?"

He shrugged. "You do realise that I don't really mind where I live as long as you're with me, don't you? And it's not like I'm not used to your place. I've practically been living there even before we got involved. Toby even likes me now." He sighed. "But I think we should wait until after Janine and Irene's visit before I move in. And we can get a dog, can't we?"

"All right," she replied, giggling. She shook her head before bending to kiss him on the lips. "I'm still not jealous of them, Sherlock."

"Yes, you are," he insisted with a playful smirk.

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "No, I'm not."

"You are too!"

In the end, they settled the argument with a tickle fight and a few rounds of mollocking.

* * *

 _I truly had no idea that the alternative name for Sherlolly was a euphemism for sex until I looked it up. *_ cackles _*_

 _I found the removed listing for the house they used to film Molly's bit in the 'I love you' scene. So I just transported the house to central London. I also used the popular headcanon that Molly bought the house at a massive discount because it was the crime scene for a murder. [Please check out the post on Tumblr or on AO3 to see the links.]_

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	6. Day 6

**DAY 6: SEASON 4**

 **19 May 2017**

 **Summary: Molly babysits Sherlock after his birthday celebration at the cake shop.**

 **Prompt: Season 4 (Canon Compliant)**

 **Rating: Strong T/Mild M, for references to drug abuse/addiction, cursing, and naughty/sexy talk**

 **A/N: Part of my Secret Relationships are Fun! series. I saw a quote by C.S. Lewis and I decided that I would tie it to "The Lying Detective" and Sherlock's drug use. I also wanted to write a TLD-related fic that ties to my post-TFP fic. This is also a bit of a rush job. Hope y'all like it though!**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

 **BABYSITTING**

* * *

" _Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person's ultimate good as far as it can be obtained."_ – C.S. Lewis

* * *

Molly sat across from Sherlock in front of the roaring fireplace in 221B. She had made tea for both of them after coming back from the cake shop. Taking a sip of her tea to hide her smile, she recalled how wide his grin was when he blew the candle on the cake and how frequently he laughed as they ate and chatted.

Now he smiled at her as he raised his mug to his lips.

 _God, I wish I could freeze this moment._

"Would you do it if I asked you to destroy the photos and videos you took in the cake shop?"

She set her mug on the table and pulled her phone out of her tote bag. "Absolutely not. And, before you ask, I've sent my favourite photos to our friends. Greg's been complaining that he wasn't invited to your little party."

"It's his fault for not phoning me about the triple murder in Chiswick." He picked up his phone and started typing on it.

"You were still in the hospital," she replied while she fiddled with her favourite shot of Sherlock. "And he's busy gathering evidence to make sure Culverton Smith never gets out of jail. Not to mention that Donovan was the DI assigned to the case, and she solved that triple murder all by herself." She sent it to him and dropped her phone onto her lap. She sipped some tea as she watched his reaction to the photo of him laughing with John.

He growled in annoyance. "Oh, for God's sake!" He scowled at her before turning his attention back to his phone.

"You don't have to pretend that you don't save the photos I send you, you know."

"I'm not. Pretending, I mean. I save them so I can persuade him to do what needs to be done without his usual fuss and questions."

But she caught him smiling at a photo of the Watson family on his phone once. "Sure, he doesn't fuss when you ask him to do something dangerous because you show him that photo of him and his family at the christening." She smirked. "I know for a fact that that stunt worked only _once_."

He placed his phone on the little table beside his chair and gazed at her. "Are you still stressed?"

 _You have no idea._ "Less so now that you're home from the hospital and you've stopped wrecking your body with drugs."

"I had it under control!"

"Yeah, right, Mr Double Kidney Failure." She shook her head and suppressed a shudder as she remembered reading his chart while keeping an eye on him after Smith tried to kill him. "Will you promise me that you won't take drugs for a case again? Because this is the second time that it's happened in as many years. And it scares the hell out of me."

"You're not including the incident on the plane to Eastern Europe?"

She shook her head. "You weren't expecting to survive the journey. You weren't _supposed_ to. It's not the same as taking just enough to make other people believe that you've relapsed again."

He heaved a heavy sigh. "Will you promise me that none of my friends would be gunned down again? Do you know for sure that I won't ever go through emotional distress like that again?"

"Well, no… But––"

"And I only did it this time, because the woman––my _friend_ ––that took a bullet for me told me go to hell in order to save her husband and the father of her daughter. It _had_ to be convincing. But I can't promise that I will never use drugs again to catch a killer or any other kind of criminal. I will _try_ , though, not to completely trash myself on drugs and actually kill myself in the process. I'm sorry, but that's all I can promise you."

"All right, fine. So, like, Magnussen-junkie? Never Culverton-junkie again?"

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, something like that. Although, God, I hope it'll be a while before I have to do it again. And don't worry. I realised just before Culverton tried to suffocate me that I don't actually want to die. I mean, Mary saved my life, and I want to repay her for her sacrifice by actually staying alive. I'll just have to replace recreational drugs with something that won't kill me."

"Fine, fair enough," she replied with a deep sigh. She drained her tea. "Do you still miss Mary?"

"Only every day since she died." He drained his drink as well. "Want to read journals on the sofa?" He replaced his mug on the table and grunted as he began to stand up.

Molly quickly rose to help him, but he waved her off. She stepped closer anyway to catch him if he fell over. She gave him a relieved smile when he managed to remain standing.

His fingers closed over her wrist and pulled her towards him. His other arm wrapped round her waist before his mouth crashed on hers.

Her hands automatically rose to his face, her fingers caressing his cheeks. She returned his kiss, and then the memory of their last snog in the ambulance flashed through her mind. _Oh, my God, I've missed this._ When he sat back down, bringing her with him, she ground her hips against his. She was not surprised to find him hard. Smirking against his mouth, she rolled her hips again and giggled when he grew harder.

But she opened her eyes for a second, and her gaze landed on his left eye. _Shit, we can't._ Reluctantly, she pulled away, which made him groan in displeasure.

"Molly…" he whined.

Her hands remained on his face, and she forced him to look her in the eye. "We can't. Not yet anyway. The doctor hasn't cleared you for sex."

"Yes, he has," he growled in frustration.

She shook her head. "No, he hasn't. He mistook me for your girlfriend and he told me to take it easy on you in bed."

"He said, 'take it easy,' not 'don't do it at all'. I'd just… try to lie still while you ride me. Sounds good?" His hands slid down to her arse and gave her butt cheeks a light squeeze, almost making her change her mind.

She planted her hands on his chest and gave him a firm glare. "Nope. I'd rather not risk it. Besides, you can never lie still when I'm on top. Also, would you rather have Mrs Hudson or John or your brother or your _parents_ find out that we've been shagging if you were sent to the hospital again?"

"They don't need to know that!"

"They would. Mycroft would only take 10 seconds or less to figure it out. Your mum would just _know_. Mrs Hudson or John would think, 'He was with Molly when he overexerted himself. How could that be?' They may not be the Holmes kind of genius, but they're smart enough to figure out what we've been doing."

"Who cares if they find out?"

" _You_ _do_ ," she said as she extricated herself from his grasp and rose to stand in front him. "OK, how about this? If you can tell me _why_ you decided to sleep with me––and it _has_ to be a valid and excellent and satisfying answer–– _then_ we'll shag tonight." She took a deep breath and cursed her throbbing core and her traitorous heart.

He gave her an intense and lustful look, which quickly turned into a pleading one when she stood her ground. "Molly, _please_?"

She shook her head. "Until I hear straight from your doctor that you're all clear for all kinds of sexual acts, the most we can do is cuddle on the sofa or on your bed."

He pouted at her, aghast at her decision. "We can't even snog?"

"Nope, because we can't help ourselves. We start snogging, and we're _naked_ the next moment. So… no, no kissing until you're all healed up."

Grabbing a couple of journals from her tote bag, she nearly ran to the sofa and plopped herself down on one end. She lifted her feet and rested her heels on the coffee table. She raised the two journals and smiled at him. "I've got the new issue of _Analytical Methods_ here!" she sing-songed.

He managed to stand up with a grunt. He shuffled towards her and took the journal from her hand. He then slowly and carefully laid back on the sofa. He gave her a miserable look as he laid his head on her lap. "Just wait till I'm all cleared for all kinds of _physical_ activities, and I will fuck you _hard_ in your front hall up against the door," he said as he started reading his journal.

She felt shivers down her spine at his words and willed herself to stop picturing it. She raised her journal to her face to hide her flush and flipped the front cover. "Can't wait," she replied truthfully, although she made it sound like she was bored.

They read in silence for a few minutes, until he broke it.

"Would you let me watch you touch yourself?"

She let out an exasperated groan. "Sherlock!"

* * *

 _It's my headcanon that Donovan has been promoted to DI, which is why she's no longer Lestrade's partner._

 _Also I hope this makes some sense, because I could barely keep my eyes open and my brain wasn't working when I was writing this. *_ shrugs _*_

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	7. Day 7

**DAY 7: FREE CHOICE**

 **20 May 2017**

 **Summary: Prince Sherlock falls in love with the wrong princess.**

 **Prompt: Free Choice (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T, for some cursing and mild sexuality**

 **A/N: Part of my Secret Relationships are Fun! series. This is a modern royalty AU, in which Molly and Anthea are half-sisters and Sherlock is supposed to marry Anthea to forge an alliance between their kingdoms, with a little bit of Mythea. TBH, I actually wrote more Mythea than I intended, but this is still more of a Sherlolly fic.**

 **I got the idea from colormayfade's prompt generator on Tumblr: '** **I'm here to marry one of the royal children as a way to make an alliance between the kingdom and staying for a visit before the marriage but I'm totally falling for the other and more rebellious sibling that I'm NOT supposed to marry'**

 **Hope y'all like this one!**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

 **THE ROYAL ENGAGEMENT**

Sat on a love seat facing the double doors of the Queen's Study, Prince Sherlock interlaced his fingers with Princess Molly's. He had wanted to pace along the hall, but he opted to sit with his precious (and equally anxious) princess instead. He had been trying to distract himself by checking his emails, but to no avail. He glanced at his older brother, Crown Prince Mycroft, who was leaning against the opposite wall and was speaking quietly with Crown Princess Anthea. In their short acquaintance, he had never seen her ignore her phone; but, now, she held her phone in one hand and caressed the hand gripping the handle of his brother's ever-trusty umbrella with the other. To his left, their respective youngest sisters, Princesses Eurus and Skye, whispered and giggled with each other. He rolled his eyes and wished that they would stop sexting their boyfriends when his future with his Molly was at risk.

He was supposed to marry Crown Princess Anthea to forge an alliance between the Kingdom of Albion and the Queendom of Scotia. He had been violently opposed to the arrangement, because he did not want to be anyone's consort, let alone the future Queen of Scotia's. But his mother, Queen Margaret, had told him that, since his brother absolutely refused to marry anybody and he was next in line, he had to marry the Crown Princess. So he finally relented and agreed to visit Scotia with his entire family to meet his fiancée. He liked her well enough, but he thought that she would have been a better match for his brother. But he had promised his mother and he would keep his word, although he much preferred to remain a bachelor and focus on his work as the kingdom's Chief Detective.

That is, until he met Princess Molly. He had been drawn to her the moment he laid eyes on her. And when he spoke with her, he found out how kind and intelligent she was. He liked how she was considered the rebellious princess, because she would rather work as the queendom's Chief Coroner than participate in politics. He was surprised to find that she saw through his façade and that she accepted his good qualities and his flaws. He also rather liked it when she challenged him and chastised him for his rude behaviour, mostly because everyone else would just let him do what he wanted. He loved that she could comfort him, calm him down, help quiet his mind, or drive him mad with her kisses and her touch.

He had never met anyone like Princess Molly, and he could not help falling in love with her. To his infinite surprise and joy, she loved him too.

So when they were able to slip away from their families and the guests at his Molly's birthday ball last night, they locked themselves in the Queen's Library and snogged. His hand was already in her knickers when the Crown Princess and Prince let themselves in and caught them. He and Princess Molly endured five minutes of scolding from their older siblings––who were planning to ravish each other as well––and being humiliated in front of their parents and youngest siblings.

The next morning, the two couples faced their Queens and the Duke of Reading and recounted how they fell in love with the sibling that they were not supposed to marry. Both Prince Sherlock and Crown Princess Anthea beseeched their Queens to cancel the arranged marriage between them and to let them marry the people they loved.

Two hours later, Queen Fiona, Queen Margaret, Prince Sigurdson, and their advisors were still deliberating inside the former's study.

He felt his princess squeeze his hand. He smiled and leant to kiss her.

"Are you all right?" she whispered against his mouth.

"Well, I'm anxious to hear anything–– _literally anything_. But my fucking best friend won't answer my texts."

"God, I'm glad I'm not the only one. Mary would just send me a shrugging emoji every time I asked for updates. Like, would it kill her to send a bride or a crying face emoji?" Princess Molly rolled her eyes.

He smirked. "She's probably busy flirting with John."

"Oh, my God. You're probably right!" Giggling, she pulled up her conversation with Mary and asked her if she was paying more attention to the deliberations or to the 'hot' captain. She tilted her phone so he could see and chuckle at the drooling face emoji that the head of the queendom's security agency texted back.

"I don't even know why it's taking them so long to decide. Quite honestly, this will only strengthen the alliance. Two members of the Scotia royal family marrying their counterparts in the Albion royal family? They should be _thrilled_! You _know_ the whole world would lap it up. So what if the arranged marriage has been announced?"

"Well, I think they're worried about how the Queens would be perceived if they just went, 'Sorry, we take it back.' They wouldn't want their enemies to use the fact that they went back on the agreement against them later." She took a deep breath and laid her head on his shoulder. "And _that's_ why I prefer cutting up cadavers over running the queendom."

He heaved a heavy sigh and released her hand long enough so he could wrap his arm round her shoulders. His other hand covered her much smaller one instead. "You're right. We should just elope."

She met his gaze. "But that would break my mother's heart as well as Queen Margaret's. That would also humiliate them. We can't do that."

"No, we can't do that," he replied with a dejected sigh. "I do hope you know that I will love you for the rest of my life, even if they forced your sister and me to proceed with the marriage." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

She smiled and lifted her head to kiss him. "I do. And I feel exactly the same."

"It would be a massive scandal if it leaked that you and I are cheating on each other with our respective siblings-in-law," remarked Crown Princess Anthea as she and his brother sat down on the remaining love seat. "I doubt they," she added, tilting her head towards the closed double doors, "would like that."

"Yeah," Princess Molly agreed. "But they all married for love, so why can't we?"

"I bet they're already planning two weddings," chimed in Princess Skye.

"Well, we'd prefer to be involved!" Princess Molly turned to her older sister. "Don't we, Anthea?"

"Of course! And Mum knows that."

"It's much more likely that they're chatting about things that have nothing to do with you four," Princess Eurus said in a bored tone. "They're just making you sweat." She pulled out her mobile from her dress pocket. "Nothing on social media yet, if anyone's interested to know."

Crown Prince Mycroft turned to her. "Thank you, sister dear."

She sighed. "I don't have to kill anyone for leaking something. What a damn shame," she muttered to herself. She winked at him when he chuckled.

"If I were you, I'd just choose an empty room and shag."

"Skye!" her older sisters whisper-shouted in unison.

"It's probably not the best idea, Princess Skye," the Crown Prince calmly told her.

"As if you didn't spend the night in the Crown Princess's bedroom after _you_ interrupted us, Mycroft."

Princess Molly only sent him a disapproving look.

He was about to apologise to his princess when the double doors opened. Mary Morstan, the queendom's Chief of Security and Princess Molly's best friend, and John Watson, his kingdom's Captain of the Guards and his best friend, beckoned them inside.

The advisors had left when the six of them re-entered the Queen's Study. _Exited through the side doors_ , he deduced as they resumed their seats. He studied their parents, who were drinking tea and speaking to each other in low voices, but they were difficult to read.

Queen Fiona turned to them and smiled. "Queen Margaret, Prince Sigurdson, and I have decided to grant Crown Princess Anthea and Prince Sherlock's request to cancel the previously agreed-upon marriage."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he replied with palpable relief in his tone.

Crown Princess Anthea smiled at the Queen. "Thank you, Mum."

"You're welcome, dears." She glanced at her fellow monarchs. "Now, would you like to announce your respective engagements at the same time? Or would the Crown Princess and Crown Prince prefer to announce theirs first?"

The four glanced at each other before turning back to their parents.

"It's best to announce my engagement to the Crown Prince and Molly's engagement to Prince Sherlock at the same time," Crown Princess Anthea answered on their behalf. "We don't mind sharing the limelight. We are also not opposed to a double wedding. All each of us really care about is marrying the person we love."

"You've talked about it, haven't you?"

The Crown Princess glanced at her smiling sister. "Molly and I have, and the princes agree with us."

"Excellent!" Queen Fiona grinned at them. "Shall we set the date for the double wedding then?"

"How about 15th January?" piped up Princess Molly.

"Perfect!" Queen Fiona and Queen Margaret exclaimed at the same time.

While they planned the double wedding, Prince Sherlock shared a happy smile with Princess Molly–– _his Molly_. _I am now_ the _happiest man on the planet._ "I love you," he whispered as he gave her hair a furtive kiss.

"I love you," she whispered back.

He could not wait to spend the rest of his life with his beloved princess.

* * *

 _I know that there's actually no Duke of Reading, which is precisely why I chose it. Also, Molly and Skye's father is from Albion, and their mother's consorts are all dead._

 _I had an entire scene between Molly and Anthea talking about their feelings for Sherlock and Mycroft, respectively, when I was planning this fic. But it would have been too long if I wrote that, and I'm already pressed for time._

 _It's also been two and a half weeks, but my brain is still screaming for me to expand on this. What do y'all think?_

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


End file.
